


Rum and Popcorn

by Skinner (psiten)



Series: Fifteen Mokona on a Dead Man's Chest [1]
Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ninja, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Pirates vs Ninjas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psiten/pseuds/Skinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, a pirate walks into a bar and sits down next to a ninja...</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"You think you're so great just because you can make helpless people walk a plank, or because you wear a hook for a hand, or maybe can teach a parrot to say, '<i>Avast ye, matey</i>', or something? Well, let me tell you, your lot isn't so tough, <i>Captain</i> Doumeki."</p>
</blockquote><p>[Alternate Universe Doumeki x Watanuki humor fic, inspired by a piece of <a href="http://zelas.deviantart.com/art/Pirate-xXx-Ninja-markers-44191379">fanart by zelas</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pirate vs. Ninja

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beltenebra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beltenebra/gifts).



     "Beer," he called out, taking a seat on the stool at the bar. The barmaid dropped a foaming mug in front of Doumeki quickly, but not before he noticed the young man sitting next to him, eyeing him suspiciously. He took a long drink and a considering glance.

     Tight black clothes.

     Sensible shoes.

     Fishnet gloves.

     With a sigh, he turned back to the bar, ignoring the scathing aura of hatred surrounding his barmate. Didn't it just figure that on his one night in port between this month at sea and the next, he'd run into a ninja? The life of a pirate never ran out of excitement. The ninja was cute, though, and he could have sworn that the tiny fox that peeked out of the collar of his black shirt had winked at him.

     "Haven't seen you around here before," Doumeki said, putting his beer back on the bar. Hard to drink when someone was staring at you like he wanted to rip your throat out.

     The ninja whipped his head away, turning his nose up to the ceiling. "_That's_ because I'm stealthy."

     _Oh yeah. Definitely a ninja_, Doumeki thought with a laugh.

     "Was that a laugh? Did you just _laugh_ because I said I was stealthy?!" The man in black yelled at him, jumping up from his barstool to throw a fit in his face. He'd have said the ninja'd had too much to drink, but he looked wound tight enough to snap if you plucked him, and his words were abnormally quick and precise for a man who was sober, let alone drunk. "I'll have you know that I could steal the feather off your hat and put it back without you even noticing I'd done it! In fact, I already have. Hah! So there! What do you say to _that_, hmm? I'm the stealthiest nin--"

     The man swallowed the word abruptly when Doumeki raised an eyebrow.

     "The stealthiest stealthy person," he corrected himself, "in this whole kingdom, so what _exactly_ do you think you're laughing at, you big hook-handed oaf?"

     Doumeki shrugged. "I can see you now. Must not be _that_ stealthy." He could almost see steam coming out of his companion's ears. Saying you were a ninja was the number one screw-up in the ninja code. Pirates had it much better, in his own personal opinion. You could tell _anybody_ that you were a pirate.

     "Well, it's my day off," the man replied, sitting back down and putting his nose back in the air.

     "Mine too." Doumeki lifted his glass to the cute little ninja, who had narrowed his eyes at him in comically animated malice. "Truce?" he offered.

     His barmate clinked his little glass of something clearish (and probably not near strong enough to get the twist out of his loincloth) against Doumeki's mug of beer and shot the last of the glass back in one throw.

     "What're you drinking?" Doumeki asked, waving the barmaid back over.

     The man in black stood up abruptly, tugging his shirt down emphatically. "Actually, I was just leav--"

     "Oh, you're leaving already?" The barmaid asked sweetly when she arrived, and his companion nearly fell over himself geting back on the stool. It was priceless.

     "Himawari-chan, no, no... I was... I wasn't leaving, I was moving away from this goon over here. You should watch out for his type, you know." Turning back to him, the suspicious (but still cute) ninja wrinkled up his disdainful (but cute) nose like he'd smelled something particularly nasty. "He looks like a _pirate_ to me."

     Doumeki lifted his hat to the lady and kissed her hand. "Doumeki Shizuka, captain of the good Queen Cassandra, at your service, milady." She laughed and pulled back her hand. The girl made a good show of seeming not to notice the way the ninja was starting to cry out in horror. "And a double for my friend of whatever's his poison," he said, sliding a silver piece across the bar. With a wink, he added, "Just keep 'em coming," and dropped his purse on the counter.

     "It's nice to see such good friends here," the girl said to the ninja as she filled up his glass. The indignant squeal that came out of the high-strung man in black and the utterly amusing look of disgust on his face was more than worth a night of covering his tab.

     "Friends!?" his companion objected. "Who are you calling friends? I just met this man, just now, and I _hate_ him!"

     The barmaid laughed and went on her way.

     "I am _uninterested_ in drinking anything bought with _your_ money, _pirate_." The man in black shoved the glass down the bar toward him. "Don't think I don't know all about the Queen Cassandra and the piratey missions that the pirate crew on board does in their very _pirate-like_ way!"

     "Suit yourself," he replied picking up the glass and taking a sip. Doumeki barely managed to swallow it instead of spitting it back out. "Is this iced tea?"

     "It's oolong," the ninja sniped back, grabbing the glass out of his hands, "and if you can't appreciate the divine nectar that is Himawari-chan's iced tea, then you don't deserve to drink it." He drank the whole thing in a gulp and slammed the glass down on the bar, sitting down on the stool again with a "Hmph!"

     Then his eyes went unfocused and wide -- and kept getting wider til Doumeki was starting to wonder if the guy's eyes could eat up his whole head. The ninja turned suddenly to look at the glass in his hand, which was now shaking in exaggerated fashion, and spun back around to look at Doumeki as his face turned green.

     "Oh god. I just let a pirate buy me a drink."

     "Pirate _captain_" Doumeki replied, pulling off his hat so he could straighten it on his head. "Don't think I caught your name."

     "Watanuki Kimihiro," the ninja replied in a daze, looking at the glass on the bar like a man who'd just seen Death pass by. Then he looked up sharply and snapped towards Doumeki -- back suddenly straight as a gunshot and his eyebrows in the clouds. "I mean Ichihara Yuushi!" he yelled insistently. "I mean..."

     Watanuki trailed off when he saw the smirk at the corner of Doumeki's mouth and dropped his forehead right on the wooden bar.

     "_Shit_."

     He took a sip of his beer, shaking his head in mild disbelief over how well that had worked. _Ninja fail_, Doumeki thought.

     "So, Watanuki Kimihiro," he said, rather enjoying the pained expression that was taking over his companion's face. He'd heard from a few friends who'd tried it that ninja-baiting wasn't nearly worth the trouble, but for his first time, he'd say it was working out just fine. "What've you got against pirates?"

     "Why, you... you... you... you villians!" He was incensed enough that he didn't even notice the barmaid stopping by to refill his glass. "You plundering scoundrels, gallivanting over the high seas like you own the place, all flashy with your big poofy shirts and your big poofy feathers and your big poofy pants and your... enormous boots! And don't give me any shit about that meaning anything but _stupidly big feet_!" The ninja looked like he was gesturing in three directions at once, miming a caricature of a pirate's swagger. "You think you're so great just because you can make helpless people walk a plank, or because you wear a hook for a hand, or maybe can teach a parrot to say, '_Avast ye, matey_', or something? Well, let me tell you, your lot isn't so tough, _Captain_ Doumeki." The most spastic ninja he'd ever seen in his life stood still for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up with a shake of his head. "I'll have you know that _pirates_ are my natural enemy, and from birth I have been trained in all the techniques necessary to ensure your defeat. Standing before you now is a true, class-A, bona fide, and peerless nin--"

     The man clamped his lips together to keep the one thing he couldn't say from escaping, at the same time turning as red as Captain Morgan's nose when he'd fallen asleep on the deck after a bender. Watanuki sat on his stool, curled up in more of a ball than a man of his height should have been able to manage, focusing all of his attention on his newly filled oolong tea.

     "Popcorn vendor," the man in black corrected himself before taking a slow and carefully non-chalant sip of the tea (which he seemed to have forgotten was a pirate's treat).

     "Pirates are the natural enemies of popcorn vendors?" Doumeki asked, raising an eyebrow.

     "Did that _stupid hat_ turn your brains into scrambled eggs? That's what I just said." His barmate straightened his back and gave him a look that dared him to claim otherwise, defying him with his whole body -- right down to the tip of the man's nose.

     Definitely cute.

     Doumeki shrugged and downed the last of his beer, signalling the barmaid for another round.

     "News to me," he replied.

     Ninja or not, this was turning into one hell of a shore leave.


	2. Fishnet is a Ninja's Best Friend

     No pirate was going to stop _him_ from going where he liked and seeing whom he wanted. Just because that Doumeki had picked him out and inflicted his smelly pirate self on him every time the Queen Cassandra was in port didn't mean that he had to find a new place to spend his evenings off (not that any other bar in town had the lovely Himawari-chan!) or even find a new seat!

     That would be like losing.

     _To a pirate._

     No, he definitely wasn't going to let Doumeki _win_.

     After he'd been stunned that the pirate had decided they were "drinking buddies" and sat down next to him a second time, he just turned his back and tried not to respond. Unfortunately, the sound of the pirate's voice and the way he'd kept asking, "Popcorn!" this and "Popcorn!" that just gotten on his nerves and he'd ended up snapping back far more than he'd wanted to.

     The third time that Doumeki had picked him out in the bar, he'd been downright mortified. There were limits to that kind of audacity! Didn't he have a guild to answer to? Fully in line with his own expectations, Watanuki himself had been called in for a "meeting" with the head of the local chapter of the Ninja Union. Waiting in seiza on the tatami mats outside Mistress Yuuko's chambers had never been more uncomfortable.

     "_So, Watanuki..._" she'd begun. "_I hear you've been very friendly with a certain pirate recently._"

     And he hadn't even been friendly at all! He wasn't friends with that stupid buccaneer. The pirate was being friendly with _him_. Completely different! Naturally, all of his objections had been useless. It was as if Mistress Yuuko didn't understand the distinction between the two situations at all. Him being friendly with a pirate was a ridiculous and unthinkable thing -- _especially_ that pirate, who was _especially_ loathsome. Did he think that a manly jaw and dark, brooding eyes would get him everything? Maybe with the local floosies (Himawari-chan, not being a floosy, was exempt), but certainly not with a ninja! That kind of behavior was intolerable, and he wasn't going to tolerate it! Lack of toleration would ascend to new heights, because obviously he hadn't been encouraging the brute before. Said pirate was forcing unwanted friendliness on him willy-nilly!

     He knew better than to ask for Mistress Yuuko's help trying to get rid of the lout, of course. He could never afford it -- and damn it, he should be able to deal with one stupid pirate!

     Oh, apologies. Pirate _captain_.

     Clearly, he should be able to handle this problem, and even more clearly, that was what the Mistress must have meant when she'd told him to "_Have fun next time!_"

     He'd prepared a disguise, he had his gear with him, and he had his eyes open. This was on.

     No pirate was going to get the better of _him_! Least of all that Doumeki, most awfully piratey of awful pirates. Stupid Doumeki.

     "Hey."

     "Ah!" Watanuki screamed, jumping about two feet off the ground. He whipped around to face the horrible, stupid, and annoyingly handsome blackguard whose voice he knew too well. "Doumeki! Why you..."

     Then he remembered that he was supposed to be in disguise.

     "Shit," he whispered, and took his stool.

     "Sorry I'm late."

     Watanuki turned away from the pirate, crossing his arms over his chest. "_When_ you decide to show up couldn't matter to me less. In fact, I'd rather you didn't come at all. Your very presence makes the glasses dirty, the water fishy, and the bar nuts stale, you... you... you..."

     "Pirate?" the interloper asked.

     "Precisely!" He jumped up again, shaking his fists at the ceiling. "Agh! Pirates! I hate you all!" Watanuki yelled, and turned a pointed finger on the rascal. "_You all smell!_" One clunky-booted foot went up on the lower rail of the barstool he'd vacated, and he found himself trapped between the pirate's leg and the bar. Then the other boot went on the bar's footrail, leaving only the tiny space between the stool and the counter for him to back out.

     And that was probably just what the guy wanted, too. For him to back out, retreat, give in.

     _Well, I'll show him..._

     "That's what you get for crowding yourself away on a little boat for months at a time, you know!" Watanuki yelled, poking at the pirate's big, poofy shirt.

     "Little?" Doumeki raised an eyebrow, which always made Watanuki's nose twitch. He was probably allergic to pirate eyebrows. Or something.

     "Grease and sweat and no proper showers!"

     "Boats are surrounded by water. Believe me," Doumeki said, catching Watanuki's leg with his own as he turned toward the bar. "I bathe. And you need to drink less tea. Caffeine's bad for you when you don't drink in moderation."

     He didn't sit down _because the pirate had tripped him_. No, he'd _chosen_ to use the stool as a breakfall -- as a counter to his opponent's leg-sweep maneuver. Clearly.

     "It's always so nice to see you two getting along!" Himawari's voice broke into the conversation like an angel parting storm clouds with heavenly light. (Even though what she'd said was in error. The pirate had clearly pulled some kind of wool over her eyes.) Not that a pirate like Doumeki could properly appreciate a wonderful person like Himawari-chan. "Things just aren't as much fun around here when you're not together," she went on with a smile. "So, what'll it be?"

     "Bottle of rum, milady," Doumeki ordered, tipping his hat like the slick scum he was, "and two glasses."

     By the time he was done staring at the brigand in utterly aghast horror for daring to _order for him_, the lovely Himawari-chan had disappeared, and the requested bottle of rum was in her place.

     "_What_ do you think you're doing?"

     The pirate tipped a measure of rum into each glass and loosened the strap at the base of his hook-hand. "Having a drink with my friend the popcorn vendor. What does it look like?"

     Watanuki snarled at the 'friend' part of the comment, but was distracted before he could reply by the fact that, under the hook, the pirate appeared to have a normal hand.

     "What's with the sombrero, anyway?" Doumeki asked next. "Is it Halloween?"

     "_No_. What's with the hook? Is that a fake?" He squinched up his nose to show the utter completeness of his disdain and leaned into the man's face. "Don't think you can convince me you're not a pirate, just because your hook-hand isn't real."

     "Pirate _captain_. And the hook's one thing no one ever takes when they disarm you. Makes it hard to pick up a glass, though," he said, raising his measure of rum for a toast.

     Watanuki turned up his nose at his own glass. "Don't expect me to drink that nasty pirate liquor of yours."

     "Oh, I'm sorry. All that tea must be because you can't take a real man's drink, huh? Maybe I should tell the lady to bring you a Shirley Temple."

     He stared hard at the despicable dark brooding eyes _mocking_ him from underneath that floofy feathered hat, then even harder at the glass sitting on the bar. Well, even if it was a pirate drink, what was it really but fermented molasses that had lived in a bottle for awhile? The rum wasn't at fault. The pirates had just taken it as their own, made that poor family of booze into their unwitting pawns, just as they'd done to so many things. It wasn't the cutlass's fault if a pirate picked it up, and it wasn't the Jolly Roger's fault that a pirate ship flew it. The rum was innocent, too. Certainly it wouldn't try to poison him of its own will, and maybe Doumeki had been the one who poured it, but Himawari-chan was the one who'd brought it.

     And he would drink it for _her_!

     Watanuki picked up the glass, staring down his nose at the pirate and his stupid blank expression that _certainly wasn't stoic_ (idiotic, maybe, but not stoic), and tossed back the whole glass in one swallow.

     Now he just had to stop the burning in his throat and keep his eyes from tearing up, because he wasn't going to let Doumeki have one reason to... to...

     To something.

     There was definitely something he wasn't going to let Doumeki do, and as soon as the room stopped rocking back and forth, he'd decide what it was.

     _Whoo..._

     He slammed the glass down on the counter, taking his seat triumphantly. Well, sort of triumphantly. He only missed a little, and he'd gotten it right the second time, that was for sure. It was the stool's fault for dodging.

     _Prolly doesn't want to be around a pirate._

     "So if you're a popcorn vendor," Doumeki asked, tipping some more rum into Watanuki's glass (or maybe it was his twin who'd suddenly appeared next to him, kinda hazy-like). "Why don't you ever have any popcorn?"

     "Cuz I'm a _good_ popcorn vendor," he replied, taking to his feet firmly despite the shakiness of the floor. "An' I sell it-- Whoa!"

     His knees buckled, pitching him forward into something strangely hard, yet covered with something soft and... and...

     Poofy.

     When he looked up, there was that damn pirate's face in his face, staring over the sea of shirt ruffles he'd somehow landed in. "Don't pass out on me, now, lightweight," the ruffian said.

     "_Like hell_," Watanuki spat back, trying to resist the piratey pirate hands that were trying to help him stand back up. "An' who are _you_ callin' a lightweight, _Cap'n_ Doumeki?" Then he raised his eyebrows as suddenly something about the collar caught his attention. Something odd, something faint. "Oh," he said, and leaned a little closer to where the ruffles curved around the pirate's neck. The salty musk that dripped off pirates everywhere had apparently been hiding the faintest scent of something _pleasant_, like cloves.

     Watanuki flopped his head onto Doumeki's shoulder so that he could look the pirate in the face again, since raising up his neck was proving oddly difficult. "Y'know, hyu don' smell that bad, ak'shully."

     "Gee, _thanks_," Doumeki replied, then looked oddly concerned. "Hey. Hey!"

     Then everything started going dark and--


	3. What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?

     He took his seat as usual when he came in for his night in port. Well, first night in port. There was time to take two days leave, which was just as well. If he had to put Watanuki to bed so he could sleep it off again, he rather wanted to be around in the morning to make sure the ninja woke up. Kunogi, the barmaid, had told him the rooms over the bar were safe, and that she'd give the guy her best hangover remedy in the morning if he needed it. He'd be fine, she'd said. Still, it had been a relief to see the same old black-and-fishnet ensemble sitting next to an empty stool at the counter when he walked in the door.

     Who'd have thought just one glass of rum would do him? Maybe there really was something to all that Pirate/Ninja nonsense. He'd never seen much reason behind it, just a bunch of brigands and spies feuding for centuries until no one even knew why. Ninja didn't particularly get in his way when he was working on the seas, and he was never anywhere near where they did their own business. All the talk that ninja and pirates were 'natural enemies' that he'd heard from his fellow pirates as he worked his way up from the rigging to the captain's bunk had just seemed like talk. But who was to say that there wasn't some deep-down incompatibilty that meant this ninja couldn't tolerate 'pirate liquor'? His ninja put a lot more stock in that talk than Doumeki ever had, clearly.

     Could even be psychosomatic. Watanuki was pretty high-strung.

     _Nah_, Doumeki thought as he scanned the black-clad figure perched on the stool next to him. _He's damn skinny. Probably just a lightweight_.

     Even an obsession with hating pirates couldn't make you pass out drunk from one glass, right?

     Watanuki turned to face him, scowling like there was no tomorrow.

     _Should I say I'm sorry? It's not like I made him drink it._

     He'd just provoked him a little.

     Looking more upset by the second, the ninja turned away again and examined the bottles lining the back wall with a great deal of interest.

     "Thank you," the man in black said at last, shooting him a sidelong glance that told Doumeki the topic was closed.

     He shrugged. Getting a drunk friend off the decks and into bed was the least you could do.

     An instant later, the ninja was pushing something down the bar towards him -- something he was certain hadn't been there before. He would have smelled it, even if he could have missed _seeing_ a quart-sized, red-striped container of steaming, butter yellow popcorn. The words 'Hot' and 'Fresh' emblazoned on the side were clearly no lie, which was impressive for something that must have been whipped out of some hidden location with no popcorn cooker nearby. Possibly more impressive was the bulk of the thing, which he would have expected to show in the ninja's outfit. It was the kind of clothing he'd ordinarily describe as 'leaving nothing to the imagination', but imagination was all he had to go on if he wanted to guess where the popcorn had been stashed. No bag, no pouch, no nothing -- except a weapon belt over some pants that he was pretty sure couldn't possibly have pockets in them.

     "Hey!" Watanuki snapped his fingers over by his face, calling Doumeki's attention away from the view positioned rather closer to the barstool. "I very kindly saved you some," he said in a rather brusque fashion. "Take it. And you'd better like it, because I make the best popcorn on the planet."

     Doumeki took the carton and picked up a few kernels. "Don't mind if I do."

     Turned out the ninja didn't make empty boasts. That was some damn good popcorn.

     "Not bad," he said, taking another handful.

     "As you can see, it's the popcorn of a top-notch popcorn vendor. _Now_ do you admit that _that's_ what I am?"

     "Never said you weren't," he answered with a shrug.

     "I hate you. Did you know that?" the ninja spat from his perch.

     Doumeki dropped his hook off his hand and onto the counter, then grabbed another handful of popcorn. "Hadn't heard," he said, and proceeded to make short work of the carton.

     "How are you boys doing tonight?" the barmaid asked, showing up with a smile. "Can I get you anything?"

     He raised an eyebrow at his companion. "Did you want some tea?"

     His nose twitching furiously, and the ninja swiveled his barstool so he was facing the pirate and crossed his legs and arms. "_If_ you're implying that I'm not up to your high-seas drinking habits, think again! That was a fluke, last time. A previously unknown and never again to be seen convergence of forces, and besides which, I hadn't had dinner yet. You won't get _me_ like that again! Whatever you're planning to imbibe, I assure you, I am more than up to the challenge." Turning to the barmaid while pointing a finger at Doumeki's face, Watanuki declared, "I will have what _he's_ having."

     Doumeki removed his hat and set it on the bar, considering the dilemma of picking something out for his lightweight ninja friend.

     Meanwhile, said ninja scoffed, and dared him, "Do your worst!"

     So, if he picked something that wasn't booze, two things would happen: the man in black sitting next to him would probably think he'd just been insulted, and he wouldn't be drunk enough to deal with the fall-out.

     On the other hand, if he ordered something strong and Watanuki passed out, that was it for the night. It wasn't as if there was anything (or even anyone) else he felt like doing. It was better if the ninja didn't fall over unconscious after one glass of whatever.

     Then, of course, there was the chance that his reaction to rum was related to a deep-seated hatred of all things pirate...

     Maybe 'ninja liquor'? At the very least, Watanuki might be familiar with how much of it he could and could not drink at once, and act accordingly.

     "Well?" the ninja asked, looking more impatient than usual.

     Doumeki turned from his companion to the barmaid, turning the base of his detached hook idly. "Sake, if you please, milady. Cold."

     She was turning to leave -- despite the livid, agape expression on his barmate -- when the ninja struck the bar, yelling, "_Just one moment!_"

     He could feel every eye in the establishment turning to watch.

     "Sake? _Sake_!? Are you insane?" Watanuki yelled. If there had been any truth to the rumors that ninja schools taught you to shoot fire from your eyes and sprout poisoned claws from your fingers, he'd probably have been a severely lacerated and dosed pile of cinders by now.

     He wasn't, so there was a pretty good chance that those rumors were as exaggerated as the reports that pirates had knives for teeth, rabies (which was ridiculous because, as previously stated, boats are surrounded by water), and a hard-coded inability to speak without saying "Arrrrrrgh!"

     "A pirate can drink anything he pleases," Doumeki answered. "It's a perk."

     The ninja frowned, and one of his eyebrows looked like it might jump off his face, it was twitching so hard. "Of course you _can drink_ sake. Anyone and everyone should appreciate the goodness of sake! _But with popcorn!?_" His companion did a now-familiar but always entertaining jig of enraged frustration, throwing clenched fists up at the ceiling. "The flavors don't complement each other at all! Quite the opposite! I knew you were an idiot and a cretin the moment I saw your hat, but _this_ is a new low. I would at least have assumed you had enough civilization in you as not to make so basic a mistake as _that_." Leaning intently over the bar, pointing again at Doumeki, Watanuki informed the barmaid, "He will have an _ale_. The Belgian wheat you have on tap, I should think. Please, Himawari-chan! Don't let his uncouth manners put a frown on your lovely face!"

     Kunogi laughed and turned to him. "Which will it be, then?"

     "After a recommendation like that," Doumeki answered with a shrug, "I guess I'll have an ale."

     "All right. Two ales, coming right up."

     "Thanks again, darling," he added with a wink as she walked away.

     Watanuki, meanwhile had decided to give him another death glare. He hadn't thought popcorn and sake were that bad a match.

     "What?" he asked the ninja.

     Slowly, his companion leaned in toward his face. "I think I see your game now. All these months, I've been _oh so confused_ as to why you've decided to force your horrible company on me, but now I see! This is about Himawari-chan, isn't it? Always calling her, "milady" this, and "darling" that, tipping your big poofy hat and flaunting your swords and, oh, did I mention that you're a pirate _captain_? I should have realized it earlier. Well, you can't have her! Himawari-chan is an innocent, beautiful soul, not to be taken in by a pirate like you! Certainly not while I'm here to defend her!"

     "Relax," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not after your barmaid."

     The ninja's nose twitched. "Well, you must be after _something_," he replied quietly, examining Doumeki with suspicion.

     As a pirate, he'd never been uncertain about what it was he wanted, nor about grabbing it when he saw it sail by. That was another of the perks of the job, after all: taking what you pleased, and not listening to any who'd say you nay. Sometimes people put up an impressive fight, and maybe this'd be one of those times, but what kind of pirate captain would he be if he hestitated?

     Doumeki grabbed a fistful of black shirt roughly and pulled, stealing a kiss while the ninja crashed against him. He had to assume Watanuki didn't dislike it as much as he'd expected the ninja would, since the scramble for balance ended with his 'drinking buddy' braced against his leg instead of flipping out and aghast on the other side of the room.

     The complaining whine escaping from Watanuki's throat, compared to the other objections he'd seen registered over the course of their acquaintance, couldn't possibly represent actual distaste. He'd experienced a wide range of objections, and that barely indicated mild annoyance. His ninja's serious complaints always involved far more gesticulation than _whining_.

     That was close enough to permission for him.

     Unfortunately, the instant he switched his focus to enjoying his prize, the man in question managed to push away. Standing at arms length, with his breath coming in ragged gasps and his face flushing red, Doumeki had to admit it -- this wasn't a sight he was going to get tired of this any time soon.

     "_What_ do you think you're doing?" the ninja demanded.

     "You wanted to know what I was after," Doumeki answered with a shrug.

     Turns out, if someone who's already red blushed more, he turned purple. He wouldn't have guessed that. And he doubted that Watanuki would appreciate the help if he picked the ninja's jaw up off of the floor, so he just kept waiting for some sign of motion or thought.

     His friend stayed frozen until Kunogi came over with the mugs and set them down on the counter.

     "You two are just so cute!" she said with a smile. "It's almost like Romeo and Juliet."

     The ninja's eyes tracked her, the man himself still silent in disbelief, as she walked away. Once she'd gone far enough at last that those fiery black eyes turned back towards him, Watanuki let out a sigh that definitely bordered on 'annoyed'.

     "This is _your_ fault."

     "You're the one holding on to me," Doumeki reminded him.

     A blink of an eye later, Watanuki was sitting on his own stool, glowering at the top of the bar. He whispered, "_Shit_," into his ale and took the tiniest of sips.

     Doumeki grinned and took a swallow of his own. That had gone about ten times better than he'd expected.


	4. Unorthodox Arts of War

     His ear hurt. That was the first thing Watanuki was able to process as consciousness slowly filtered back into his brain. His ear hurt because his head was on something significantly less soft than a pillow, and why was it taking him so long to wake up anyway? Not to mention the fact that sleeping on something other than his pillow made no sense when last night had been his night off. He should have been at home, not curled around...

     Something hard and warm.

     And slightly sweaty.

     That smelled like cloves.

     His senses couldn't be fooled -- it was a person. He knew the feel of skin and the shape of someone's shoulder perfectly well by touch. Normally, that sort of recognition was done by hand, when he was expecting it, but the cheek contained sensory apparatuses as well, and it wasn't hard to extrapolate.

     So, someone. Someone naked.

     Watanuki was definitely awake now, screaming "_La, la, la!_" in the recesses of his mind to keep from jumping to any conclusions about who the mysterious person Person B who'd lent him a shoulder for the night might be. Opening his eyes, careful not to make sudden moves, he peered around the room.

     Body. Definitely male, and not too shabby a body either. But he'd been able to feel _that_, as well.

     Bed. Not his own. Of course, that had been obvious, since it _was_ a bed and clearly not the futon he spread on the floor of his rooms. The walls looked the same as the room above the bar where he'd woken up last month after sleeping off that glass of rum. So, he probably hadn't been kidnapped.

     Probably.

     Weapon belt lying over the back of the chair by the door. Why had he left it all the way over there?! Not that it mattered. Not really. He'd be able to get to it if he needed it.

     One fishnet sleeve hanging from the doorknob. Weird.

     The other one seemed to be hanging on the light fixture on the ceiling.

     Huh.

     His pants and shirt weren't visible from his current position. Unfortunately, the stupidly gigantic boots lying in mild disarray near the nightstand were. As, if he moved his neck ever so slightly to look at the bedpost by his... by the other person's head, was a hat he knew more than too well, complete with poofy feather.

     "Hey," a voice said by his ear, confirming his worst suspicions.

     He'd gotten drunk and had sex with a _pirate_.

     _That_ pirate.

     "How do you intend to explain this, _Captain Doumeki_!?" he demanded.

     "Explain what?"

     Watanuki moved decidedly over to _his_ side of the bed and pulled the sheets securely around his person. "You may begin with the whereabouts of _my pants_!"

     The villain shrugged -- no shame! -- and laid back on his own pillow with his hands behind his head. "I'm not the one who took them off."

     It was just like a pirate to excuse himself with that kind of... of... of... _excuse_. And a damn shabby excuse it was, too. It was certainly no help toward the stated goal of _finding_ his pants. Well, perhaps it hadn't been stated so much as implied, but it had been strongly implied, and Doumeki was being _not helpful_. Now, where were they?

     Not on the floor on his side of the bed.

     Not on the windowsill or the nightstand or the chair by the near wall.

     Peeking as carefully as he could over Doumeki without risking touching the man (again), he could see that they weren't on the floor over there, either. His shirt was lying in a heap by the bottom of the near bedpost, but his pants were nowhere to be found.

     It would seem that he would be required to _think_ about whatever it was that he had done to cause his pants to be divorced from his person, or he might never be able to find them. Damn it.

     _Right. Last night._

     So, after an ill-timed comment about nitrobenzene had led to him explaining to Doumeki that there was _no way in hell_ a pirate could say _dioxidomethylidene_ in the course of receiving a blowjob without resorting to the use of the polysyllabic 'Arrrrgh', he'd practically dragged the smirking pirate up the stairs to prove his point. God, he'd been drunk. Nothing in dioxidomethylidene even _sounded_ liked 'Arrrrgh'!

     Right. Still had his pants on then.

     One thing leading to another. That had definitely happened.

     And he'd been wearing his pants when he'd gotten onto the bed, if he recalled correctly.

     Oh, Doumeki was totally _lying_ about not being the one who'd taken them off, too. He'd absolutely...

     No, wait. His clunky pirate fingers had been taking too long finding the three rows of _perfectly logical_ buckle clasps hidden on the sides. Watanuki had ended up stripping them off himself, and then when Doumeki did that thing to his ear, he'd...

     Kicked them off his feet. Right.

     Keeping the sheets wrapped around him for modesty's sake, he crawled down to the edge of the bed and poked through the blankets for his trousers. One leg was sticking out of the space between the mattress and the foot of the bed, and the other leg seemed to have gotten wrapped somehow around a pole in an annoying and hard-to-detatch fashion. It was looped around itself and secured in a way that might have been ingenious if it had been done on purpose, but as it was currently preventing him from proper access to his clothes, he rated it a _damn pain_.

     Also, his posterior was starting to get cold.

     Watanuki flopped back down on the pillow, drawing the blanket over his chest and rubbing his eyes.

     "I can't _believe_ I had sex with a pirate."

     "I can. Pirates are good in bed." He turned his head to face the man on the pillow next to him. Doumeki continued, poker face unbroken, to say, "It's in the code."

     "_What_!?"

     "Article Twelve."

     Doumeki rolled onto his side and adjusted the blankets, covering himself, which had the side effect of pushing their bodies back together. Technically, Watanuki, supposed, with the pirate's arm across him that way, this was what one might call "an embrace". It was warm, though, and he wasn't complaining on a morning this cold. He looked up instead, with one eye open, and gave his interlocutor a half-hearted, "I _hate_ you."

     "I'm sorry you feel that way," said a soft, _unapologetic_ voice by his ear.

     That was when it hit him. Like a bucket of ice getting dumped down his back.

     "Oh, _shit_!" Watanuki yelled, sitting bolt upright. He turned to the other man, who had managed to dodge to the side. "I had sex with a _pirate_! The union is going to have my hide!"

     "The popcorn vendors' union?" Doumeki asked with that _goddamn smirk_.

     "_Yes, that's right!_" he shot back, then shivered at the thought of the summons he was sure to receive from Mistress Yuuko when word of this got back to her -- and it would definitely get back to her. She always knew. "I'll... I'll have my rank stripped, I'm sure of it. My tools confiscated, my clearances revoked, my _life over_!"

     "Are you serious?" he heard the man ask. When Watanuki turned and saw that the smirk was gone -- well, it was hard to tell for sure, seeing as the pirate's stupid face didn't show an _extraordinary_ emotional range, but something told him there was no more smirking -- and it was possible he felt the tiniest twinge of guilt.

     A slew of hyperboles froze on his tongue. The guy didn't really _care_, did he? Watanuki bit his lip and answered, "I may have been exaggerating slightly."

     Doumeki's arm reached out from under the covers and pulled him hard back down to the mattress. "That's good," the pirate said, trapping him in yet another embarrassingly comfortable embrace. "You know, the pirates' guild actually gives you extra points for scoring a _popcorn vendor_."

     "You had sex with me for _points_!?"

     The pirate barely flinched. "No," he replied in a complete deadpan. "You're special."

     "Oh, blow me," Watanuki said. His best evil glare was met by an amused raise of an eyebrow. Glares worked so much better when you had _pants_ on. With a sniff, he looked up and away, anywhere but at that stupid--

     Watanuki tensed and grabbed the covers. Something around him had moved in an unexpected fashion.

     Make that _someone_.

     He looked over at where the pirate's head had been a moment ago, and at the mass moving under the sheets. That couldn't be good.

     Well, actually, if both his intuition and his memory were working properly, it could be _very, very_ good, but _not in a good way_!

     Well, kind of not. And kind of _not_ not. He was of half a mind to pull up the sheets and demand of the pirate to know what he was doing, but the question was a bit redundant.

     "_That's not what I meant!_" Watanuki yelled instead. Not that Doumeki would listen.

     Solid hands on his thighs pushed his legs apart, and he gave way, not putting up a fuss. He could already feel the ache of anticipation answering the other man's breath on his skin. His head was clear, so he couldn't blame this on one pint too many or a barroom argument turning hot. Watanuki lay back on the pillow, not stopping himself from arching into the pirate's touch. The bitter sarcasm that usually echoed in his brain when he did something that might turn out to have been a bad idea faded fast against the feel of Doumeki's tongue of his cock.

     Some days, life just wasn't what you expected. Yesterday, he'd been going about his business as usual. Today, he'd woken up in an unexpected friend's arms, having trouble remembering that he _hated_ the bastard. Maybe tomorrow the sun would come up in the West -- not that he'd notice if he was having another morning like this. Watanuki's fingers curled in salt-swept hair, and he didn't even try to stifle his moans. It was far too early in the morning to pretend.

     His legs tightened against Doumeki's sides as his head reeled, like he was looking for balance in the sure firmness of the man's body. The thought brought a wry smile to his lips. As if clinging to the man whose touch was even now making his head go light could keep him rooted in sensibility.

     Watanuki gasped, his whole body quaking. The firm grasp on his thigh loosened and trailed down, grasping his hip and exposing his entrance to an attack from Doumeki's _fucking unfair_ tongue. The slow, wet caress was like a match on a fuse, lighting a fire in his blood that spread from the inside out -- shivering up his spine and burning from his toes to his chest. Every inch of his skin was crying out for a taste of that mouth.

     The trail of the man's touch drifted back up, teasing the base of his cock, darting up the length until he reached the head. Then his tongue turned slow again, and circled the tip before he pushed his lips down around the shaft. The slow push up and down pulled choked cries from his throat. Still sore as it was from screaming last night, he could feel the sound catch and pinch, but couldn't hold it in. The heat building to a peak under Doumeki's lips and tongue felt like it might burn an indelible mark in his consciousness. He might never be able to go back to those carefree days before he knew exactly how much... exactly how good...

     _Oh, God!_

     He felt his shoulders coming up off the bed, his spine shivering in the heat, every pretense of a proper thought pushed out of his head by the pressure welling up through his whole body.

     "I'm..." he gasped. "I'm c--"

     Then suddenly Doumeki's mouth moved to nibbling his inner thigh, leaving his cock teased by the traces of pre-come seeping from the tip and pulsing with ache.

     "_You_ are a fucking _tease_, you know that!?" Watanuki yelled, extracting his leg from Doumeki's grasp and diving headfirst under the sheets.

     He knocked the other man onto his back and shook the blanket off his head so he could see those damn teasing eyes and that stupid, persistent smirk. Watanuki glared as hard as he could, settling down to straddle the man's torso and hold his too-capable hands down against the mattress.

     "Let's see how _you_ like it," he said, and started pushing down the length of Doumeki's body until he could feel the man's erection pressing into his skin. Arched close, Watanuki traced the lines of a well-muscled chest with his tongue, listening to a contented groan as he ground against the heat of his adversary's firm shaft.

     Doumeki's fingers laced through his. "This is supposed to be punishment?"

     "Just wait til I _really_ get started!" Watanuki answered. He pushed up, and felt a passing blast of cold when the covers settled around his hips. With the heat still coursing through his blood, he felt like he'd caught a literal fever, making his muscles quiver and tremble.

     "I look forward to it," Doumeki murmured in a tone that even _sounded_ like a smirk. That thrice damned, infuriating voice sent a new shiver down Watanuki's spine.

     Since when did he not care that he wanted something as ridiculous as this?

     Though it was hard to call ridiculous in just now, pushing slowly down to take Doumeki's length inside, feeling the chill of the air pale against the heat that filled him so completely. It took all the focus he could spare to relax enough to move with ease despite the lack of a lubricant. Watanuki cracked one eye open, despite how heavy they were with the weight of the urgency clouding his brain. His bitter enemy, his comrade and opponent in an arcane war, was afflicted all right -- a muffled groan passed the other man's lips, hips underneath him bucking up to meet his push, hands toughened by ropes and sea winds sliding down between his thighs.

     "Ah!" Watanuki cried out, the resurgence of sharp exhilaration shooting through his cock taking him by surprise after the past moment's lull. He shook from his shoulders down to his hips, grinding harder and deeper on the stiff shaft inside him, the pressure hitting _that spot_ inside sending an electric jolt straight to his brain to blank out every thought.

     Spasms rocked his body, driving down now out of pure need, no method guiding the rhythm of his push and pull. The rush of blood through his ears, the echoing drumbeat of his racing pulse as Doumeki's hand stroked him toward frenzy, seemed to drown out his own ragged breath and desperate screams to _finish it this time_. And like the crack of thunder splitting the sky, he broke, the clouded lust covering his brain burned away in one blinding flash while his cries echoed back from all sides.

     A gentler warmth spread through his abdomen, and his consciousness drifted back from the brink. His jaw was still trembling, his hands shakingly grasping at the sheets as the strength in his legs gave out and he fell backwards.

     He felt the closeness of Doumeki's body warm above him and smelled the scent of cloves calling him back into focus. He couldn't move his arms yet, couldn't lift his head from where it lay, but he forced his eyes open and fixed his stare on the two eyes smoldering so close to his own. The salty taste of sweat fell onto his tongue, his mouth open and panting, his body still shivering more from heat than from cold.

     Doumeki broke their stare, turning to the side to suck clean the mess of Watanuki's come spattered on his hand. Then, a thumb pressing his mouth open wider, Watanuki let his eyes fall closed again and succumbed to a deep kiss. A push on his hip from Doumeki, and his body melted against his adversary, falling open to let his solid length back inside. His throat rumbled with a languid moan, the ache inside sweet even as the tremors of ecstasy steadied and his control returned.

     A slow, even thrust forced his sated nerves back alive, stirring the embers of the fading flame in his blood. He could feel the heat blooming inside, urging him to rock harder against Doumeki's push. Watanuki managed enough strength to bring one leg around the man's hip and both arms up around his back. His nails dug in as Doumeki took the invitation to move faster, harder inside him and the headboard beat out a fierce tattoo on the wall.

     He shuddered, the pleasant ache nearing unbearability just as the man inside him paused in a deep thrust and shivered with his own climax.

     Doumeki pulled out slowly, grabbing Watanuki's waist tight against him as he turned to fall back onto the pillows. Between the two of them, they managed just enough coordination to find a corner of blanket to protect them from their sweat chilling in the morning air.

     After a moment lying still, his head resting in the crook where Doumeki's neck met his shoulder, he recovered enough to sound a petulant moan deep in his throat.

     "Hmm?" Doumeki questioned him with a grunt of his own.

     With some struggle, Watanuki pushed himself up to arm's length and waited for Doumeki to open his eyes. He let out a sigh, and shook his head at his completely inexplicable life.

     "I can't believe I had sex with a pirate _twice_," he explained at last.

     One side of Doumeki's lip raised in a quiet laugh. He turned and reached his arm up, just barely managing to pull his hat from the bedpost and drop it unceremoniously on Watanuki's head, feather and all.

     "Pirate _captain_," he answered, and rested his arms behind his head -- looking _entirely_ too satisfied for his own good.

[The End]


End file.
